


Hot Pot

by 3tequilafloor



Series: Away Games [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bad Flirting, Gen, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Gross, Sickfic, Vomiting, asahi doesn't mind, daichi wandered away i'm sorry, he might throw up on you, mild asahi abuse, noya is a menace, sneaky kouhai, suga kind of minds because he's sick just go away everyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-06
Packaged: 2018-07-21 23:24:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7409299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3tequilafloor/pseuds/3tequilafloor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Suga gets sick during a team trip, and only Asahi is available to look after him. </p>
<p>It goes exactly as badly as you'd expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Pot

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in the winter before the manga begins, so they’re all a couple months younger and haven’t changed years quite yet, but they’re basically the same ages as when Hinata first meets them.
> 
> Daichi was supposed to be there instead of Noya, but he's actually great in a crisis so I had to send him out for a middle of the night blizzard jog or some other mysterious distraction to stay true to the prompt:
> 
>  
> 
> **Yamaguchi or Asahi trying to comfort a sick friend and failing because they're too grossed out themselves.**

Koushi wakes to a silence so heavy it’s unnerving. It’s snowing, he remembers slowly. They’re snowed in. They’d spent hours lobbing snowballs at each other, but eventually the conditions had gotten so bad out they’d been forced to wait the storm out indoors.

The innkeeper had treated them to hot pot for dinner, as if it were a special occasion instead of just terrible weather. Probably because the first years couldn’t stop shivering and sneezing. They should have come inside sooner. Koushi had been shivering and sneezing, too.

Even now he’s shivering, which is silly considering he’s soaked all of his bedding through with sweat. He groans softly, sensing that something isn’t right but not sure what.

“Asahi-san, wake up!” Someone whispers urgently. That’s strange, because the voice doesn’t belong to Daichi, and there should only be three of them in the room. Koushi is tempted to ignore it. He feels oddly weak. Sitting up to investigate seems troublesome.

Asahi seems to agree. He makes a few sounds that are awfully whiny for such a big guy, but eventually he gives in and sits up. It’s easy to tell, because he casts a big shadow in the dim lighting. “Whassamadda?” He rumbles. If boulders could whisper, Koushi thinks they might sound a bit like Asahi when he’s half asleep.

“I heard a zombie.” Comes the fervent response. Which is…ridiculous. Definitely too childish to come from one of the third years, so the intruder must be one of the first years. Koushi hiccups, and it brings him to the surprising realization that Asahi and his loud little friend aren’t what woke him after all. There’s a bad feeling in Koushi’s middle. Oh…oh, no. Is he sick? He can’t be sick! They’re in a hotel, in public, in a storm. It’s the middle of the night and there isn’t even an adult around. Koushi hiccups again, miserably.

“L-light.” Asahi’s voice somehow rumbles and trembles at the same time. He reaches to turn the table lamp on and they all blink away the sunspots for a long moment. Asahi’ eyes widen in surprise when he sees Koushi. That can’t be good. “Suga? Are you ok?”

“He’s definitely not.” Volunteers the other voice. It sounds familiar now, but with the light on it takes a long moment to connect the dots. Nishinoya Yū, their first year libero. With his hair falling naturally instead of teased up into tall spikes the already petite guy looks even younger.

Koushi groans. He doesn’t want to deal with these two idiots breaking the rules right now. They’re both fully clothed and no more disheveled than expected from two people who woke up in the middle of the night, but if the coach or the captain catches them (or Daichi,) there will be heck to pay.

“Go back to bed.” Koushi finally manages to say. It comes out gritty, as if he’s been gargling with sand. That’s exactly how it feels, too. Nishinoya has the decency to look a little guilty for making Koushi correct his behaviour as he climbs back under the duvet he’s dragged in from somewhere else.

If he weren’t so impossibly far away, Koushi would slap some sense across the back of his head. He settles for a resigned sigh instead, wincing at how the movement makes his whole body ache. “Your own bed!”

“Yes, ok!” Nishinoya jumps up, a little flustered for once. Probably because Koushi sounds every bit the zombie he’d imagined. He drags a rubbish bin and a water bottle over first, though. “Should I get someone for you? You look terrible.”

Koushi stares down at the bin like it’s a puzzle. He hears Asahi speaking again, but the words don’t register. Some kind of conversation takes place, but Koushi doesn’t hear much of it. His stomach does a heavy roll, and he realizes with a dreaded certainty why the bin is there. Worse, he has a feeling he might need it.

No. He’s not going to be sick in front of his teammates. He’ll just have to make it down the way to the toilets. When he tries to get to his feet, though, he pitches forward unsteadily. If not for a pair of strong arms wrapping around him, Koushi would be on the floor. “Woah! Easy…um. Where are we going? I-I think I’d better come with you.”

Still reeling with the perceived motion of the floor, Koushi has to choke down what he suspects is a sob to answer. He shivers and gives an embarrassingly pitiful reply. “Toilets.” This time it’s a gag that Koushi has to fight down. He clarifies with a new sense of urgency. “Sick.”

Asahi curses softly. He stumbles over something and hurts his toe, but then he’s right there just to the front of the bedding. He leans down to help Koushi loop arms around his neck, and then suddenly the ground is far below. It’s unexpected. Koushi grasps Asahi’s shirt too tightly. It’s definitely going to wrinkle.

He has to close his eyes as the corridor appears and then whizzes by. It’s only when he feels himself being lowered that he chances taking a peek again. It’s a mistake. The world tilts to the left, and Koushi’s stomach gives an ugly lurch. He still has one arm looped around Asahi when a spasm tears through his side and his stomach tries to leap through his throat.

“Ow! Ow, ow, ow!” Asahi complains as Koushi unintentionally yanks his hair. They’re tangled together so badly that as Koushi leans forward with a pained helpless gurgle and dribbles up a mouthful of sour, watery bile, Asahi’s head gets smacked into the toilet chain.

Asahi groans right along with Koushi. He gently untangles himself and grabs his eye, which is probably sore now. He makes a sympathetic sound of sickness, but he also seems genuinely relieved. “Thanks for not throwing up on me.” He says, sounding sincere.

There’s no way to tell him that it’s a lucky coincidence, because Koushi can’t stop the painful dry heaving that wracks his body. His stomach churns furiously, like its full of hot, angry tapioca pearls. But nothing comes up. It really hurts. This time, Koushi sobs out loud.

Oh, how he doesn’t want to be here. Or maybe he just doesn’t want Asahi to be here. If only his mother were here instead. Maybe she’d know how to help him just get it up already. A new layer of oily sweat oozes out of him, but he can’t stop shivering. He can’t stop gagging on air, either.

“Ow.” Koushi echoes Asahi’s earlier sentiment. It’s only now that he hears the gentle shushing sounds Asahi is making, and feels the big, clumsy, shaking hand trying to pat his back.

“Shhh, relax. Don’t fight it. Shhh.” Asahi murmurs. He sounds close to crying himself. Crap. Koushi must be really scaring him right now. Somehow, that realization is enough to let Koushi draw a few gasping breaths that aren’t followed immediately by unproductive heaving.

“Sorry.” Koushi groans, feeling weak and embarrassed and still utterly, hopelessly nauseated. “That was awful.”

Asahi swallows sickly. “Y-yeah.” He agrees, definitely sounding shaken up. “Can’t you-?”

“No.” Koushi moans, not even trying to disguise his misery at the fact. “I feel…ugh. But it won’t-gack!”

He leans further over the toilet, splayed on hands and knees now. Asahi holds him under the armpits to keep him from over balancing. They stay that way for what feels like a long while. When Koushi’s arms get too shaky to hold himself up on he leans back and allows Asahi to catch him. Asahi is crying, he realizes. That’s no good.

“Hey, c'mon. Don’t-” Koushi cuts himself off again with a sickly belch. He leans forward and closes his eyes, but all that comes up is another thin stream of sour liquid… Oh, ew, and a bunch of saliva. Instead of trying to reassure his concerned friend, Koushi has to concentrate on drooling over the basin instead of down their shirts.

It just might be the most humiliating moment of his life so far. A series of queasy belches brings another flood of saliva, but nothing useful, and he upgrades the status to definitely the most humiliating moment of his life so far. Asahi swallows hard, but keeps gently stroking Koushi’s back. If he can’t do this soon, he might have to share the toilets with Asahi at this rate. The guy sounds sympathetically woozy.

That tears it. Koushi spits to clear his mouth and tries his best to keep the tremor out of his voice. “I can’t do it. Stop crying and help me.”

He feels Asahi nod and sit up straighter. “What do I do? Do you want-um… Coach? Or the captain? Or should we call your mom?”

Koushi shakes his head, groaning at how it sets the world spinning around him again. “No. It’s three in the morning. Just-owww. Oh, God. Just say something gross, or punch me in the stomach or-guuuuuurgh.”

Asahi shudders as Koushi wharks a few times and still can’t bring anything up. “Ok. I-when I was little I used to eat things I shouldn’t a lot. So, um. My dad would-ah, but you’re not going to like it.”

Koushi spasms with something between a hiccup and a burp. It makes his side cramp painfully and his stomach twist up in impossible knots. “I’ll say uncle.” He promises, swiping at a tear of his own that’s managed to escape.

“You won’t be able to.” Asahi warns grimly. They both steel themselves and then Asahi’s fingers are in Koushi’s mouth. “Lean over.” Asahi advises. He sounds as nervous as Koushi feels. Koushi grabs hold of Asahi’s other arm and gives it a reassuring squeeze, then does what he says. It’s non-verbal permission, but it’s still impossible to mistake.

Asahi moves his fingers back, not hard, but quickly. The pressure is firm and steady. Koushi gags almost immediately. He drools all over Asahi’s hand, but it’s the least of their concerns because finally, finally something moves. Koushi feels it rising, but Asahi doesn’t back away in response yet. All at once, Koushi’s stomach clenches hard. His throat fills with something acidic and chunky so that he can’t breathe around it. He punches Asahi hard so he’ll know.

Asahi lets go with a wail, but Koushi still vomits all over his arm and bites down on his knuckles before he can safely retreat. Later he can apologize, but at the moment all he feels is relief. Actually, it’s the pain and disgust that comes along with puking so hard your insides turn to jelly. There’s an anticipation of relief, though.

After what feels like forever, he’s finally finished. He’s covered in sweat again, shaking with exhaustion, so dizzy he’s seeing spots, and too weak to even pull the chain. But his stomach feels mostly empty now, just a few low priority gurgles and groans and that sore, tense feeling of abused muscle. In fact, he’s sore all over.

Tomorrow he’ll want to die of embarrassment for this whole scene, but as the first morning birds start to chirp outside all Koushi feels is accomplishment and bone tired.

Asahi pats his back one last time, then pulls the chain for him. The poor guy almost spews himself, but he manages to keep it together by a thread. Koushi recovers and tries to catch his breath while Asahi stumbles away to wash his arm and bring some water. He curses quietly about a leg cramp, and somehow it’s almost funny.

Koushi sips the water carefully, not interested in a repeat performance. “What was Nishinoya Yū doing in our room?” He asks, wincing at his raw throat and strained voice.

Asahi sighs. “Mostly a tickle fight. Sorry. I didn’t invite him in!”

Koushi snorts, not exactly believing that. Asahi might not have asked the other boy to visit, but he’d hardly tried to get rid of him if there had been time for a tickle fight. Asahi flushes, hearing the unspoken accusation. “He scared himself with a nightmare. He thinks the inn is haunted.”

This time Koushi laughs, and oh god, that hurts. But he can’t help it. He’s never heard such a ridiculous, obvious line before. Sure, those two hadn’t been fooling around tonight, but… He reaches over and gives Asahi a sympathetic pat. “You’re really screwed.”

Asahi drops his face in his hands.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote both versions, but one got lost in the Tumblr void, so stay tuned for a not-really-sequel at some point.


End file.
